


Strictly Business

by Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Business AU, F/M, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine, secret relationship trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Fitz' company is in trouble, thanks to a friend-turned-foe. The last thing he needs is a doe-eyed Englishwoman trying to buy the lot, or so he believes... until he meets Jemma Simmons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strictly Business

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pocketfullof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pocketfullof/gifts).



“C’mere.”

The words were whispered against her lips and Fitz just heard her soft gasp before he hastily hauled her against him, twisting at the last second to pin Jemma between his body and the edge of his desk. His lips crashed onto hers, which parted readily when his tongue brushed against the fullness of her lower lip. How had he ever lived before this? How was he expected to go on after she left? It seemed impossible that anything worthwhile had existed before Jemma Simmons had come into his life, and the realization that she would leave him soon caused his stomach to tighten in panic.

This simply couldn’t be the end. He wouldn’t allow it.

Jemma must have felt his attention slipping and as a result gave a sharp nip to his lower lip that caused Fitz to gasp against her mouth. He pulled back just far enough to give her a sheepish, apologetic smile as he brought his fingers up to brush against her cheek.

“Sorry, baby girl,” he murmured, voice laden with emotion as his blue eyes attempted to drink in everything about her, from the freckles scattered across her forehead to the way her lips parted as she attempted to regain her breath.

“Don’t,” she gritted out, hazel eyes glinting harshly in his dimly lit office. “Don’t do that, we knew- this was never-” Jemma gulped, and with her fingers fisted tightly into his starched button down she pressed herself against the length of his body. “I- I don’t want to think right now. Please, just-”

She gave a tug on the material as words failed her, but Fitz understood what it was she needed. Pushing aside his impulse to be tender with her, Fitz claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss as his dexterous fingers began to slip the tiny pearl buttons open, leaving the bright green silk of her blouse gaping and exposing Jemma to his gaze. He thought she was wondrous, in every sense of the word, but Fitz kept it to himself in favor of focusing on the woman in his arms. Jemma was the only thing that mattered - possibly had ever mattered - and Fitz would be damned if he didn’t keep her desires at the forefront now.

Fitz pulled the fine material out of the waist of her skirt, his calloused fingers skimming up over her ribs to trace the delicate black lace that was cupping her breasts. Jemma’s honey-colored eyes flicked up to meet his and any ability he may have had to keep quiet vanished.

“Jemma, I -”

A sudden burst of noise - inane office chatter from the hallway - lanced through the silence, causing the couple to spring apart as a female voice shattered the moment.

“Fitz? Why is your door shut? It’s only- OH MY GOD!”

~*~

_ Several Weeks Earlier _

Fitz’ fingers drummed against the highly polished table top as he attempted to bore a hole through the holo-clock on the wall with nothing more than his gaze. He could feel the anger roiling through his gut intensify with each passing second. He was quite literally watching his future tick away and there was nothing he could do about it. Thousands of patents - hundreds in his name alone - belonged to Global Innovations, Inc., but he couldn’t earn a penny on them. With a frustrated sigh Fitz pushed back from the table and stalked over to the small table that held a pitcher of water.

“Get it out of your system now.”

He scowled at the only other person in the too-large room as he poured himself a glass of water. Daisy Johnson was smarter than a good 95% of his employees, but that didn’t mean much to his board. Those buffoons were too hung up on her lack of degree to approve her for any position with real importance, which had left Fitz with no choice but to hire her as his assistant. There had been a fair amount of wagging tongues despite the fact that he was both CEO and the founder’s nephew, but as far as Fitz was concerned it was a small price to pay. At least now he had an actual ally when he came into the office.

“I’ll ge’ it out o’ my system as soon as these damn interlopers have gone back t’ New York.”

He gulped down half the glass in two pulls, sighed, and refilled it before retaking his seat. Daisy’s brown eyes were kind as they watched him settle into the supple leather, and Fitz found himself fighting off a blush as a result. That was the last thing he needed, a bunch of busybodies coming in and finding him blushing like a schoolgirl.

“It’s for the company’s health, Fitz. They’ll buy up-”

“They’ll buy up th’ whole damn thing an’ leave us with naught bu’ scraps. An’ when we cannae hold on t’ those, they’ll come back an’ buy th’ lot. Six months, six years, this jus’ gives ‘em a toe in th’ door.”

“Fitz-”

Whatever Daisy’s protest, Fitz never got to hear it as she was cut off by the door swinging open. His own eyes cut over and he watched as Caroline, the office receptionist, gestured a petite young woman across the threshold. If he had to venture a guess, Fitz would have said he and the newcomer was of an age with him. That shocked him. He’d been expecting someone at least his uncle’s age who had a dour face, not the bright hazel eyes or youthful freckles that dusted her brow.

His surprise didn’t keep him from remembering himself, and he adjusted his jacket as he rose to greet her, hand extended.

“Hello, I’m -”

“-Leopold Fitz, CEO of Global Innovations!”

Fitz felt his brows raise into his hairline, although whether it was due to the bright English accent or thick file she slapped onto the mahogany surface he couldn’t say.

“Er, yes. An’ you are?”

“Jemma Simmons, Head of Acquisitions, D’Oro Enterprises. Let’s get started, shall we?”

If Fitz had realized that her cheery tone only served to camouflage his impending doom, he might have been more alarmed. He came to his senses three hours later just as Ms. Simmons was recounting the numerous patents Global had lost on his watch. Each invention she named felt like a slap in the face, causing his tenuous grip on his temper to slip.

Her tedious description of his miniaturized bots - drones, really, that he had spent countless months designing and building and tweaking - was what caused the last of his patience to evaporate. “Ms. Simmons,” he cut in, ignoring Daisy’s pointed glare, “while I appreciate your attention t’ detail, would you mind explainin’ t’ me why, exactly, we need t’ sit through descriptions o’ each one?”

She arched one perfect brow at him, tilted her head ever so slightly, and fixed him with a piercing gaze.

“Well, Mr. Fitz,” she replied, smirking slightly as Fitz rankled under the misnomer. They’d just gone through several of his patents; she knew damn well that he was a doctor. “D’Oro’s board simply wants it to be crystal clear why they feel Global Innovations’ value has dropped-”

“We’re as valuable now as we were-”

“-since the sudden departure of Grant-”

“-when Ward was headin’ up-”

“-Ward, it simply seems your company is sorely lacking in the ‘innovations’ you claim to possess.”

Fitz’ jaw snapped shut, cutting off what had been promising to be a rather rousing tirade before he could say anything too foolish. He could feel Daisy’s eyes on him, the warning glare nearly enough to burn a hole right through him. The realization that he was dangerously close to sabotaging their chance at survival was enough to cool his Scottish temper. How could he explain it to any of his employees if he ruined their chances because he let this woman get the best of him? Fitz reached for his water glass and took a careful sip to buy himself time.

“Ms. Simmons, I believe you’ll find tha’ we are as innovative as we ever have been, if no’ more so.” He set his glass down with a soft clink and level his gaze at her. The Englishwoman appeared calm, but Fitz would have sworn he saw a flare of annoyance in her hazel eyes, something in which he took an almost childlike pleasure. “If you’d like, my assistant’, Ms. Johnson, can give you th’ grand tour this week.”

Ms. Simmons’ lips turned upward into an uncomfortably sly smirk as she neatly returned her papers to their folder and stood. “That would be wonderful, Mr. Fitz. I look forward to seeing just what Global Innovations has to offer D’Oro.”

Before Fitz could manage a response, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, leaving only the faint echo of her clacking heels behind. Fitz watched for a moment as the door silently swung shut behind her and tried to rationalize the sudden clenching in his lower gut.

“Well,” Daisy sighed as she cleared the table of their things, “you’re screwed now.”

~*~

Fitz tried to pass the week as he normally would. He took meetings with division heads, praising good work where he saw it and demanding answers for lagging production where it was fit. He took calls from his board and glad handed their high roller investors when it was required, dodging any and all questions about D’Oro as best he could manage. Fitz even found time to bury himself deep in R&D, something he hadn’t done for months, so he could work on the designs he had pinging around his head in an attempt to take his mind from the petite Englishwoman who was touring the facilities.

But still, thoughts of her persisted, a constant itch in the back of his brain that he couldn’t scratch. He wondered day in and day out what, exactly, she would find and how badly she’d find his company lacking. Fitz had thought to look to Daisy for answers, but his friend was unusually silent on the issue, other than to say that Ms. Simmons was uncannily interested in the minutiae of their work and got on well with everyone, which was no comfort to him. D’Oro would buy him out and Jemma Simmons would make it so his own employees would wave him off gladly when the day came.

That particular line of thinking circled his mind so viciously that, by the time they met once again on Friday, Fitz felt as though he were ready to jump right out of his skin. Which he naturally did at exactly the wrong time. Not even Daisy’s wince as he snapped at Simmons’ observations could help him keep his tongue in check; no, he merely shot down each and every criticism that she presented as brusquely as he possibly could. The end result was an hour long meeting that ended with no satisfactory solution and the interloper glaring him down as she gathered her things and strode from the room.

The silence hung heavy for several beats before Daisy finally broke it.

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

Fitz’ blue eyes went wide and his jaw dropped as he gaped at her. “ _ I’m _ an arse? Wha’ meetin’ were you sittin’ in on? She was th’ one who had nothin’ positive t’ say!”

“For a genius, you’re an idiot.” Daisy had always gotten away with quite a lot, something Fitz found he suddenly regretted as he watched her roll her eyes at him. No other assistant would have dared to behave in such a way. “Seriously. She loved our designs-”

“She thought they were outdated!”

“-particularly the ones  _ you  _ created.”

Fitz sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “She still said they werenae viable in th’ market.” He was dimly aware that he was pouting but refused to give in to the urge to explain himself. He was the bloody CEO. He didn’t need to explain himself to anyone. Even if he did feel like a complete prat in the moment.

“Leopold Fitz, I know damn well you heard what she said. And what Jemma-”

“Oh, so you’re on a firs’ name basis with her now?”

“- said was that they were very good and only needed minor tweaks.” Daisy set the papers she’d been organizing aside and plopped down into the chair next to him, swiveling so he would be forced to meet her eyes. “You won’t ever admit that you want it, but you pay me to give you my honest opinion. To verify what you read in people. And Jemma Simmons, I hate to break it to you, is no different than you are. She’s just as smart and she wants to see this company succeed, whether you’re heading it or someone else is. You should give her a chance.”

Daisy’s words struck him, and Fitz sat silently as he watched her get back up and go back to organizing the room. What she said made sense, but left him - and his pride - in the unenviable position of having to make an apology. Fitz hated apologies, particularly when he had to make them.

“So, wha’ do you suggest I do about it, oh wise one?”

Daisy lightly smacked him upside the back of the head with a file for his smartassery and replied, “You’re the genius, Fitz. You figure it out. But, between you and me, a good bottle of scotch might not be a bad place to start.”

~*~

Fitz mulled over Daisy’s suggestion for the better part of the afternoon, creating an extensive, ever changing list of pros and cons in the process. He didn’t much care to seek her out; from their first meeting to their last, Jemma Simmons had carried herself with a barely repressed air of superiority that had set Fitz’ teeth on edge. He had met plenty of girls like her - smart and gorgeous and well aware of both - who had never bothered to give him the time of day in uni. Why should he bother to make amends? She’d likely just laugh in his face anyway.

But a voice that sounded suspiciously like a cross between his mother and his assistant kept nagging at him, telling Fitz that he’d been a prat with how he’d raised his voice at the Englishwoman and that he knew he should be treating guests better than that.

Silently cursing the fact that he’d been raised with manners, he selected a bottle of A’bunadh and plucked two glasses from his office wet bar. Fitz paused when he stepped into the hall, the dark stillness causing him to pull up short. What if she wasn’t even here? He couldn’t blame her if she’d gone back to her hotel. He certainly would have after the row they’d had that afternoon, but he pressed on anyway.

At the very least he could ease his conscious by saying he’d made an honest attempt to apologize…or perhaps better than an attempt.

When he pulled even with the guest office they’d cleared for Simmons, Fitz saw light pouring over the open threshold. Peeking around the door he caught sight of her, hair curtaining her face as she bent over her desk. She was markedly more relaxed than she’d been earlier, her jacket tossed over the small loveseat in the corner and her white blouse a bit rumpled. Fitz was struck by the thought that he found it fetching, and he promptly shook it off and rapped his knuckles against the door, holding up the bottle of scotch and glasses when Simmons jerked upright.

“Um… I dinnae suppose you migh’ fancy a drink?”

Fitz held his breath as he watched her expression shift from shocked to confused to suspicious, but Simmons thankfully nodded yes. He shot her a shaky smile and stepped into the room, pulling the door shut behind him as he did so. If this blew up in his face, the very last thing he needed was for anyone happening by to see the officers of two multinational corporations bickering like school children. Particularly since Fitz knew he’d likely get the worst of it.

He took a seat on the sofa that was tucked into the corner, hoping that the small sitting area might put them both at ease. His hand shook as he poured the scotch and Fitz clenched his fingers tightly around the bottle to keep Simmons from noticing. He glanced up when he felt her weight dip the cushion next to him, only to look away again quickly when he realized just how close she was. So much for playing it cool. Thankfully the scotch gave Fitz something to do with his hands - not to mention a way to calm his nerves - and he took a large sip as he sank back into the corner.

One glass turned to two turned to three, and before Fitz realized what happened he had his jacket tossed over an armchair, followed shortly by his tie, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Simmons - although he was beginning to warm to the idea of calling her Jemma after she’d repeatedly insisted on him doing just that - for her part had kicked off her heels and tucked her feet beneath her. She’d gone lax against the far arm of the sofa, her voice rising and falling melodically as they rehashed their earlier arguments. Only this time Fitz took Daisy’s advice and listened, really listened, and he saw what his assistant meant about Jemma. Her mind was absolutely brilliant, and in other circumstances the pair of them would have been fast friends.  

Hell, they could still be if her boss’ plan came to fruition and they bought his company out from under him. Not like Fitz would be busy then. There’d be plenty of time to cultivate new relationships.

“I jus’ dinnae know, Si- Jemma,” he mumbled before draining the last of his scotch. “After Ward walked ou’ with all o’ those designs, th’ board decided tha’ we needed t’ play it safe. Bide our time until we could ge’ things back in order, but -”

“But it’s not possible to get thing back in order without innovating anything, is it?”

Fitz snorted, his frustration clear, and tilted his head against the back of the sofa. “Y’ could say tha’ again. In fac’, I did, multiple times, bu’ they dinnae wan’ t’ hear it. Tol’ me I’d done enough.” He sighed and hoped he didn’t look as pathetic as he thought he sounded. As if his current companion didn’t have enough reasons to pity him, he just had to go and give her one more.

Just as Fitz was trying to think of ways to gracefully shift the conversation, the feeling of small, warm fingers closing over his own around his glass caused him to start. Forcing himself to keep his movements smooth - no small feat with how quickly his heart was now beating - he opened his eyes and looked Jemma over. Instead of the pity he’d feared, Fitz only saw kindness in his eyes and it made his heart clench in his chest. He wanted to hate her, had thought he was meant to hate her, but after talking to Jemma for the better part of the afternoon, he knew better than to believe she simply wanted to take over Global Innovations for the hell of it.

Perhaps that was what caused him to do what he did next. Taking advantage of the fact that both her hands were occupied, Fitz gently palmed her cheek and towed her into him for a tentative kiss. He could feel Jemma’s surprises as what was happening registered, and although Fitz braced himself to be pushed away he was inordinately pleased when he felt her relax into the moment. Resisting the urge to deepen it, he pulled back a few scant inches so he could see her face. Jemma seemed dazed and Fitz couldn’t decide what he liked best: the way her pupils were blown wide, the way she was struggling to get her breathing back under control, or the way her fingers were curled around the back of his own neck to keep him in place.

“Tha’ was-”

“Absolutely perfect.”

Before Fitz could say anything more, Jemma’s lips were on his once more. He was content to let her lead, until she shifted closer and began pushing him further back into the cushions. He broke their kiss with an apologetic smile so he could move their tumblers to the coffee table before sitting back once more. Now that he could bring both his hands into play, Fitz reached for Jemma once more, easily finding her waist and tugging her over to straddle his lap.

“Are- I mean, d’ you - Is this all righ’?”

“Yes, better than all right. Kiss me, Fitz.”

The command was whispered, but no less effective for it. Fitz did as he was bid and reached for her once more, bringing her mouth down to meet his, eager to lose himself in her. When it became clear that she wouldn’t stop him, he began tugging at her clothing in a bid to expose her to his hungry gaze. Jemma enthusiastically returned the favor, her fingers scrabbling against his chest as she did her best to unbutton his shirt without breaking their kisses. Even distracted by the sight of her breasts cradled in lace, Fitz had to admire her ability to multitask; it wasn’t before long that Jemma was flinging his shirt into a far corner and attacked his zipper.

Their coupling was frantic to say the least and between the alcohol coursing through his veins and the rush of hormones that came with the feeling of her hands on him, Fitz found he couldn’t clearly remember much of it. It came to him in bits and pieces: the feeling of her mouth on his neck as she palmed his cock, her low moan when his fingers found her clit for the first time, the way she’d whimpered in frustration when he had to cease his ministrations to fetch the lone - and thankfully still good - condom from his wallet. He remembered that she was hot and slick around him, even though the latex, and that he’d been fascinated by the undulations of her hips and the effect they’d had on her breasts as she rode him.

But most of all, he remembered the way Jemma clenched around him, bucking forward against the fingers he’d managed to press against that all-important bundle of nerves and the bolt of male pride that shot through him when she collapsed bonelessly against him once she’d finished.

He’d felt frozen in the aftermath, unsure of whether he should cuddle her close the way his past partners had so enjoyed or if that was simply much too intimate for what they were. Which, if he were being honest, were acquaintances who had happened to have too much to drink and had rather fantastic sex as a result. But just when he’d made the decision to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, Jemma shifted away, hissing slightly as she slipped off his lap and began to gather her discarded clothing.

Fitz followed suit but watched Jemma furtively as she dressed, fighting the urge to groan in disappointment as the pale skin he’d spent the better part of the past hour tracing with his eyes, fingers, and mouth disappeared beneath her skirt and blouse once more. He watched as her fingers did up the long line of buttons, sighing regretfully as she hid the light pink friction burns his stubble had left on the soft skin of her belly from sight. When he looked up he found Jemma watching him, a smirk twisting the corners of her mouth, and Fitz quickly ducked his head and feigned interest in doing up the zip on his trousers in the hopes of hiding his blush.

Unsure of what one was meant to say after shagging the woman who had been sent to buy up one’s company, Fitz opted to stay quiet and focused on gathering up their used glasses and the nearly-empty bottle of scotch. When Jemma was done dressing, Fitz trailed her to the door as he tried to wrangle his racing thoughts. Fortunately, she took the pressure off him by speaking up first.

“Do we need to talk about what happened?”

Her hazel eyes were nearly indecipherable in the scant light that filtered through the windows, and Fitz found himself floundering a bit. He wasn’t an untried lad who thought that one quick roll in the hay meant they were anything more than acquaintances, but also know there was no polite way to say that aloud.

“No’ if you dinnae think there’s anythin’ t’ talk about.”

Jemma shot him an annoyed look as if to ask if he had actually just said that. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything without more prompting, she reached out to him, her fingers wrapping gently around Fitz’ wrist.

“I… I had fun, Fitz, but-”

“No one can know. Go’ it.” He saw Jemma’s eyes go wide in surprise and shrugged. “Look, I ge’ it. You were sen’ t’ buy up my company. If you cannae ge’ a good deal, your boss will think you dinnae try hard enough because we shagged. ‘M in th’ same boat. If I le’ you take too much, everyone will think it’s because I fell for a pretty face an’ a big brain.”

It was Jemma’s turn to blush, and she toyed with the doorknob as she glanced down at the toes of her shoes. Fitz hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable by complimenting her, but it was the truth. Not only was she brilliant - which would have been more than enough to catch his attention - but she was gorgeous to boot. Under any other circumstances asking her out would have been a no-brainer, but as it was Fitz had to accept that this was as far as they could go.

“All right then,” Jemma whispered, twisting the knob and cracking the door open. “This stays our secret then.”

~*~

Try as he might Fitz couldn’t simply stop thinking about that night. Fleeting images of the two of them together - skin slick and sliding against each other on the small love seat in her office, her head thrown back as her thighs trembled around his ears, the feeling of her nails scraping against his scalp as she held him close and rode out her orgasm - flitted through his mind at the most inconvenient of times, leaving Fitz blushing and unwilling to leave his desk.

It didn’t help matters any that Jemma seemed to be hell bent on torturing him. He couldn’t say it with any certainty, but he would swear on a stack of Bibles that both her necklines and hemlines had gotten more daring, and that when she leaned over a desk the other day, she had purposefully done it where he could see right down the gap in her blouse to the delicate black lace of her bra. Fitz’ eyes had nearly bugged out of his head and he’d had to beat a hasty retreat to his office to keep from embarrassing himself.

And that didn’t even take into account the one or two text messages Jemma sent him each day. Each missive was just suggestive enough to cause his brain to keep prodding at it, but was never blatantly bawdy. What it all added up to was that by the end of the day, instead of appearing to be the chief executive officer of a global corporation, Fitz came off more like a school boy, anxious to answer whether the girl he was pining for felt the same.

He hoped that his behavior went unnoticed, but he wasn’t so lucky. Given how much time she spent working with him, Daisy was the first to notice Fitz’ unusual uptick in mood. And since they had long ago blurred the lines of appropriateness between an officer and assistant, she had no problem calling him on it.

“All right,” she said, capping her pen and staring at him. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“Wha’?” Fitz’ eyes went wide and he tried to recall anything he might have said or done that was unusual. “Wha’ makes you think anythin’ is goin’ on wit’ me?”

“You were humming. While reviewing the books. You never hum while we review the book. The books are terrible. There’s nothing to hum over in there.”

Fitz shook his head and buried his nose back in computer screen before him. “I wasnae hummin’. I dinnae hum, period.”

“Sure you don’t.” Daisy waited a beat, allowing Fitz to think that all was well, before pressing him once more. “So, who is she? Or is it a he?”

“So th’ only reason I’d hum is if I were gettin’ off wit’ someone?”

“Aha! So there  _ is  _ someone!”

“I never said tha’,” Fitz growled as he glared at his assistant.

“But you didn’t  _ not  _ say it.”

Fitz went back to working, or rather pretended to be working. Still he could feel a pair of inquisitive brown eyes on him as he continued to tap away on his keyboard. Eventually he gave in and made eye contact with his friend once more.

“Fine. Jus’ say whatever you’re thinkin’.”

“You’re seeing someone.”

“And?”

“It’s someone here.”

Fitz felt his heart rate tick upward as his nerves sent shivers up and down his spine. He had promised Jemma that he wouldn’t say anything; there was no way he could leave this room with Daisy having even an inkling about their tryst.

“Wha’ are you on about?” He went with a purposely vague answer, not wanting to give Daisy’s already inquisitive nature anything to grasp onto.

“You. Are. Dating. Someone. Here. At work.”

Daisy purposefully spoke slowly, breaking her sentence into fragments as though she were speaking to a child. For his part, Fitz merely rolled his eyes and turned back to the screen before him, all the while doing his best not to think about a few rather choice moments from earlier in the week. If he did, it would be all over his face, and all over for him.

“Fine. Be that way,” Daisy sniffed, shuffling her own papers about. “Don’t tell your best friend about whomever you’re dating. Not like I care anyway.”

Fitz rolled his eyes at her feigned disinterest, but found himself grateful that she wasn’t pressing him further. Daisy was easily one of his closest friends, both inside and outside of the office, and he hated keeping secrets from her. If he had slept with anyone other than Jemma, he would have gone to Daisy right away to ask for advice about how to proceed, but given the situation Fitz found that his hands were tied. Lying was his only option at the moment, and he resolved then and there to be more careful.

~*~

Unfortunately for Fitz, Jemma never got his memo about proceeding with caution.

In fact, she seemed to be rather hell bent on pushing the envelope where the two of them were concerned, something that left Fitz feeling rather like he had been knocked on his ass. Which was understandable, given that once Jemma realized her more subtle flirting wouldn’t have the impact she so desired she quite literally knocked him into a supply closet to have her way with him. That led to a series of questionable decisions involving his desk, her desk, a stairwell that thankfully no one ever ventured into, and the executive bathroom on the 45th floor that left him feeling both giddy and terrified.

But it wasn’t until he found himself trapped beneath Jemma’s desk, the tip of his nose brushing against her bare knee as he clutched her damp knickers in his fist while she carried on a conversation with Daisy that Fitz realized there was a better way for them to carry on than in the office, even if he’d miss the thrill of it.

As soon as he managed to lure Daisy out of the room - thanks to a quick message to an assistant in human resources that Fitz needed her to pick up some files - he scrambled out from beneath the desk and handed Jemma the scrap of material once more. He found himself distracted by the sight of Jemma sliding the lace back up her legs, however, and it was only after she gave a little cough to pull his attention away that he found himself able to speak.

“Th’ office may no’ be th’ best place t’ keep doin’ this,” he suggested, cheeks going pink when Jemma shot him a pointed a look. “I mean, if you wan’ Daisy t’ know wha’ we’re up t’, we can keep goin’. Up t’ you.”

Fitz tried to play it off casually, but the truth was that his heart was about ready to beat out of his chest. There had never been much talking between them - at least not about this - and he had been okay with that. Still was. Mostly. All Fitz really knew was that he certainly enjoyed what they were doing and wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet. Hopefully Jemma wasn’t either.

He held his breath as she stood and came toward him, her hand sliding up his chest in an attempt to smooth some of the wrinkles his shirt had garnered while he’d been curled around her legs. The smile Jemma gave him was different somehow, a bit softer, more affectionate, than the looks she’d given him in the past, and Fitz felt hope stir in his chest.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Jemma murmured, her hazel eyes darting across his face to land on his lips. Fitz automatically licked his lips in response and couldn’t bother to fight back his grin when he noticed her breathing hitch in turn.

“We keep apartments for our visitin’ executives. Migh’ be time t’ make use of one.”

Jemma considered him for a long moment, and Fitz was afraid that he had overstepped his bounds by suggesting they bring this - whatever it was - out of the office. Just as he was about to backpedal and apologize profusely, her mouth broke open in a grin and she pressed up onto her toes to kiss him. He caught her against him readily and sank into the kiss, appreciating the way she clutched him about the shoulders. When he felt her tongue brush against his lower lip, Fitz realized that they were likely tempting fate once more by carrying on like this, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. He only pulled away when he needed to breathe once more, and even that he did regretfully. But even that paid dividends when he saw Jemma grinning wickedly up at him.

“Text me the address. I’ll meet you there.”

~*~

Six hours later, Fitz fidgeted as he watched Jemma walk around the apartment. Her gaze was level, betraying absolutely nothing, and he found himself worried that despite it being the nicest penthouse they had on the books, she would somehow find it lacking. For some reason that thought made his stomach tighten, and so he settled for trailing after her, jaw clenched tight, as he waited for her to pass judgement.

Jemma lingered at the wall of windows that overlooked the bay, arms crossed beneath her breasts as she watched ferries drift across the choppy gray water. His nerves finally getting the better of him, Fitz crossed the short distance between them to hover over her shoulder.

“So… is this more t’ your likin’?” he prompted, shifting his weight side to side next to her, unable to keep still while he waited for her verdict. Despite what they’d been up to during work hours, there was a very real part of Fitz that fully expected Jemma to change her mind.

“The view is nice,” she conceded, glancing at him over her shoulder, “but I bet everyone tells you that.”

Fitz’ brow furrowed in confusion. “Everyone? Why would everyone-”

“It’s the perfect place for -”

“- tell me that? I’ve never even been here -”

“- romantic trysts.”

“- before.”

Jemma’s cheeks went pink and she kept her eyes averted as she turned away from the window, clearly reluctant to do so. Without thinking much of it, Fitz stepped into her personal space, his hand automatically reaching out to curl loosely around her bicep.

“Jemma, I’ve never brough’ anyone else here.”

“Oh, Fitz,” she huffed, shifting ever so slightly away from him. “I’m not stupid, you know. I’m not the first woman you’ve seduced.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed. Not wanting to let her get too far away, he stepped in once more, this time using both hands to keep her in place. “But I promise tha’ this is th’ firs’ time I’ve been in this apartment. Dinnae know where anythin’ is, so you’ll have t’ forgive me for skippin’ th’ grand tour.”

Fitz tried giving her a smile and felt relief flood through him when she actually stepped nearer, her forehead coming to rest against his shoulder. Pointedly ignoring the small voice in the back of his brain that wanted to examine why he was so set on comforting the woman in front of him, Fitz wrapped Jemma in a hug and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. After all, he reasoned, if she was willing to let him hold her there was no reason not to, and they stood there for a few long moments, neither of them willing to break the moment just yet.

Jemma moved first, pulling back just far enough so that she could press up onto the balls of her feet to kiss Fitz. It was a soft thing, nearly chaste, until he leaned into it. That seemed to be the cue she was looking for and her tongue darted out to tease at his lower lip. Happy that Jemma seemed to have come back to herself, Fitz grinned into it, his concern easily melting into arousal.

“Well then, we’ll just have to give ourselves the grand tour, won’t we?” Jemma murmured as she took a step back from him.

Fitz had been set to protest until he realized just what her hands were doing. He watched as Jemma reached behind her to unzip her dress, shimmying her shoulders so that the heavy material pooled on the floor around her feet and left her clad in nothing more than a pale peach bra and knicker set that left very little to the imagination. Satisfied that she had his full attention, Jemma gingerly stepped out of the dress and took a few careful steps backwards, towards what Fitz could only assume might be a bedroom.

“Should we start back this way?”

The look in her eyes was mischievous without a trace of doubt, and burned the last of his hesitation away. Not wanting to be left behind, Fitz’ fingers tangled in his tie and he began stripping out of his own clothing in earnest as he trailed after her.

~*~

The buzzing of his mobile drew Fitz’ attention away from tracing delicate, nonsense patterns among the freckles dotting Jemma’s shoulder and he scowled as he picked up the device. Daisy’s name shone brightly back at him, along with the notification that she’d called five times while they’d been otherwise occupied. Feeling Jemma shift against his shoulder, Fitz glanced down at her and just caught the dark look that passed over his lover’s face.

Shortly after they’d begun using the apartment to meet, Jemma had gotten it into her head that there was something between him and Daisy. The fact of the matter was that if she were privy to why her boss was so frequently out of touch, Daisy would be thrilled for him. There would also be a flood of wildly inappropriate questions that would undoubtedly lead to their being outed, which left Fitz in an uncomfortable limbo between his friend and the woman who was certainly more than a friend but not quite a girlfriend, either.

“I’ll call her later,” Fitz mumbled, setting the phone aside - screen down - and gathering Jemma up against his chest once more as he allowed his eyes to slip shut.

“Please,” she snorted, her arm snugging around his waist as she ducked against his pectoral, “you won’t talk to her until the morning and we both know it.”

Fitz cracked one lid and grinned down at Jemma, please by the possessive way she was holding him. Neither of them had been brave enough to put a label on what they were doing, but something had shifted over the past few weeks. Instead of stripping and falling into bed as quickly as they could, now they took their time learning each freckle and scar, teasing new sounds and reactions and shivers from each other whenever they could.

They ate dinner together - usually take out that one of them picked up right after work - half dressed with Fitz in his boxers and Jemma wrapped in his shirt, chatting about the future of Global Innovations as they brainstormed possible solutions to his predicament. And, though he’d never say it aloud, what Fitz perhaps liked best was that lately they had taken to falling asleep together. True, they both woke up at an ungodly hour in order to retreat home and prepare for their days, but being able to wake up to kisses (and sometimes a quickie) was worth it in Fitz’ book.

“Can y’ blame me if I ge’ distracted?”

Fitz gave an exaggerated waggle of his brows and reached down to palm Jemma’s bum, relishing the way she wiggled closer to him in response, her leg looping over his in the process. Content in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be going anywhere, Fitz settled back into the pillows. He felt content and was ready to drift to sleep when Jemma spoke again.

“Fitz?”

“Hmm?”

“Fitz, I have a question for you.”

“Yeah? Wha’ is it, baby girl?”

Jemma began to pull herself up his body, causing Fitz to rouse himself once more. Realizing that she wanted to be able to look at him more easily, he loosened his hold on her and waited for her to resettle - this time lying across him - before banding his arms around her waist once more. Her hazel eyes were serious and Fitz found the beginnings of true concern pricking the back of his mind.

“Have you ever thought about what it would have been like if we’d met sooner? Or if we lived in the same city?”

He considered her for a moment, azure eyes thoughtful as he considered his response.

“Honestly, I’m glad I dinnae meet you when I was younger. It would have been terrible for me. I would have pined away an’ never said anythin’.” Fitz gave her an affectionate smile as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind Jemma’s ear, and found he was unable to resist stealing a quick kiss from her. “As for livin’ in th’ same city,” he continued as he lay back, “I like tha’ idea a lot. If you were livin’ here, I think things migh’ be jus’ about perfect.”

“I’m not sure what I’d do for work, though.” Jemma nibbled at her lower lip as she spoke. Though she was looking right at him, Fitz knew she was miles away mentally.

“We could find you a job. Maybe Head of R&D, like you were for S.H.I.E.L.D. Solutions before D’Oro bough’ ‘em up. Can you imagine it? We could go t’ work together, come home together...maybe even manage t’ go on a real date.”

It was a nice image of the future, and Fitz found himself getting a bit lost in the idea of having Jemma around all the time. She was the first person he felt he could truly be himself around; Daisy was nice enough, and bright, but she couldn’t keep up with him mentally the way Jemma could.

“And what if we can’t save your company, Fitz? What if D’Oro buys you out anyway? What then?”

He hadn’t expected the serious turn in conversation, but his response was nearly immediate. Fitz shifted to sit up against the headboard, taking Jemma along with him. It took them a moment to resettle, but eventually he had his legs stretched out before him and Jemma straddling his lap.

“I dinnae think tha’ D’Oro would be willin’ t’ hire me, Jemma.” Disappointment caused her expression to sink and she tried to move away from him. Quicker than even he’d thought possible, Fitz caught her close, and using a gentle hand on the back of her head, he forced Jemma to meet his eye. “But if you dinnae mind havin’ t’ take care of an unemployed CEO while he tries t’ make his fortune-”

Fitz had meant to say more, but Jemma had cut him off with a kiss. Her relief was evident and Fitz chuckled against her mouth as she began peppering kisses over his face, clearly pleased that he would be willing to put her career before his own if need be. When they both needed to breathe, Jemma pulled back slightly, leaving their noses brushing as they regained some of their composure.

“I suppose I could manage that, as long as he’s not opposed to being a house husband. You know, have my dry cleaning ready, the flat cleaned, and dinner ready when I get home.”

The teasing grin she gave him caused Fitz to release a great big belly laugh into the room, his head thrown back against the cushioned headboard.

“I think I can manage tha’,” he agreed, still chuckling, “so long as y’ dinnae mind spag bol seven nights a week.”

~*~

In retrospect, Fitz should have realized that he was about to be sucker punched. He simply couldn’t have had luck that was good enough to last. Perhaps it was Jemma, or the fact that they seemed to be on the brink of saving Global Innovations, or even that the no one on the board had call even once that week to bitch at him about how the company was being mismanaged, but for the first time in a long time, he felt truly, wildly happy.

So happy that he actually found himself singing along with the Apple Radio playlist as he finished the day’s paperwork. His mind had begun to drift toward making dinner for Jemma when the object of his affection burst into his office. The smile that had come across his face died as soon as he saw her, his heart sinking deep into his stomach.

“Jemma? Jemma, wha’ is it?”

She swallowed harshly, her usually calm gaze a bit feral as she stalked toward him. As she approached Fitz could see the very beginnings of tears in her eyes. He reached for Jemma automatically, arms wrapping around her and tucking her against his chest as though that could protect her from whatever had her in such a state.

“I-” she sobbed, words muffled by his chest, “I’m being called back. They think that- that you’re righting the ship and the price will go up too high. They don’t want to risk losing too much on this deal, so- so they want me to come home. Immediately. I’m on the red eye back tonight.”

Fear trickled down Fitz’ spine, freezing him where he stood as he processed what Jemma had said. She was leaving, just like that. No warning. No time to prepare. No time to say goodbye. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye, and in truth, Fitz knew he would never be ready where Jemma was concerned. In the space of a few short weeks she had become as essential to him as the air he breathed. He couldn’t let her go without her knowing what she meant to him.

He sprang into action, kissing her desperately as he maneuvered them toward his desk. It took Jemma a moment to understand, but once she did she moved with him seamlessly. As always, she picked up his thought without him having to say a word. They might not like the circumstances, but they would have their goodbye, one way or another.

“C’mere.”

The words were whispered against her lips and Fitz just heard her soft gasp before he hastily hauled her against him, twisting at the last second to pin Jemma between his body and the edge of his desk. His lips crashed onto hers, which parted readily when his tongue brushed against the fullness of her lower lip. How had he ever lived before this? How was he expected to go on after she left? It seemed impossible that anything worthwhile had existed before Jemma Simmons had come into his life, and the realization that she would leave him soon caused his stomach to tighten in panic.

This simply couldn’t be the end. He wouldn’t allow it.

Jemma must have felt his attention slipping and as a result gave a sharp nip to his lower lip that caused Fitz to gasp against her mouth. He pulled back just far enough to give her a sheepish, apologetic smile as he brought his fingers up to brush against her cheek.

“Sorry, baby girl,” he murmured, voice laden with emotion as his blue eyes attempted to drink in everything about her, from the freckles scattered across her forehead to the way her lips parted as she attempted to regain her breath.

“Don’t,” she gritted out, hazel eyes glinting harshly in his dimly lit office. “Don’t do that, we knew- this was never-” Jemma gulped, and with her fingers fisted tightly into his starched button down she pressed herself against the length of his body. “I- I don’t want to think right now. Please, just-”

She gave a tug on the material as words failed her, but Fitz understood what it was she needed. Pushing aside his impulse to be tender with her, Fitz claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss as his dexterous fingers began to slip the tiny pearl buttons open, leaving the bright green silk of her blouse gaping and exposing Jemma to his gaze. He thought she was wondrous, in every sense of the word, but Fitz kept it to himself in favor of focusing on the woman in his arms. Jemma was the only thing that mattered - possibly had ever mattered - and Fitz would be damned if he didn’t keep her desires at the forefront now.

Fitz pulled the fine material out of the waist of her skirt, his calloused fingers skimming up over her ribs to trace the delicate black lace that was cupping her breasts. Jemma’s honey-colored eyes flicked up to meet his and any ability he may have had to keep quiet vanished.

“Jemma, I -”

A sudden burst of noise - inane office chatter from the hallway - lanced through the silence, causing the couple to spring apart as a female voice shattered the moment.

“Fitz? Why is your door shut? It’s only- OH MY GOD!”

Fitz jumped and half-spun, instinctively trying to cover Jemma and nearly crashing to the floor when his foot caught the desk leg for his trouble. Jemma steadied him with her arms around his sides and promptly buried her face in his shoulder, the heat from her flushed face practically burning him through the thin material.

“Daisy, ge’ out!” Fitz growled, sending his assistant scurrying from the room. He had never known her to be easily embarrassed, and instead of taking the piss as he would have expected, she merely bolted from sight, leaving the door to click shut behind her.

With her gone, Fitz was free to focus on Jemma and he whirled to do so, only to find that she had begun buttoning up her blouse. There was something about her movements, small and precise, not expending any more energy than was absolutely necessary, that frightened him. Fighting down his panic, and neglecting to straighten his own clothing, Fitz brought his hand to cup her cheek. Jemma met his gaze just long enough for him to see the bright sheen of tears that stubbornly clung to her lower lashes before she went back to her task.

“Jemma,” he whispered, voice teetering on the edge of panicky, “please, baby girl, talk t’ me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Fitz,” she replied, her usually animated voice flat. With her blouse set back properly on her shoulders, she slipped off the desk and began searching for her shoes. “I’ve been told to go back. I need to go back.”

“Wha’ if you dinnae have t’ go back? Wha’-” Fitz swallowed heavily when she paused in her search to make eye contact with him, but charged on. “Wha’ if you stayed?”

Jemma watched him for a long moment, expression inscrutable, only to shake her head at him. “Fitz... Fitz you know that isn’t really an option.”

“Why th’ bloody hell no’?” he asked, beginning to pace in front of her. “We’re in better financial shape thanks t’ your help. Th’ board would be out o’ their collective mind if they refused t’ hire you. We could-”

“Fitz.”

“-find something in acquisitions-”

“Fitz.”

“-or even in R&D-”

“FITZ!”

That got his attention, his prowl coming to an immediate stop as he looked at Jemma. Her tears had begun to fall, leaving thick tracks down her face and stopping his heart in his chest. Fitz moved to comfort her, only to be frozen once more by her words.

“Because I can’t be the woman that chases after a man who will forget me in a week.”

Fitz considered himself to be a pragmatist, and as such he knew that nothing in life was ever truly certain. However in that moment he’d never been more certain of anything in his life that he loved the woman standing before him, fully and truly. There was no way he would ever forget Jemma Simmons, and there was no way in hell he would ever be persuaded to try.

Not trusting his words to be sufficient, Fitz took two quick steps toward her, wrapping her in his arms and tucking her against his chest. Jemma’s response was immediate, her own arms twining about Fitz’ waist while she hid her face against his neck. While it wasn’t quite the kiss he’d been hoping for, it did allow him to speak directly into her ear, and Fitz took full advantage of that.

“I could never forget you, Jemma. No’ in a million years. You are easily th’ smartest-”

“Oh, Fitz, please don’t-”

“-kindest-”

“-make this any harder than it needs to be-”

“-mos’ beautiful woman I’ve ever met-”

“-really, I’m leaving tonight, and-”

“-and I love you.”

Jemma pulled back at that and Fitz regretfully let her go, unsure of what to make of her wide eyes or the way her mouth had formed a perfect little “o.” He was distinctly aware of the fact that he was likely ruining any chance he had at this by saying far more than Jemma was comfortable with or ready for, but it was too late to take any of it back now. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Look, dinnae say anythin’, no’ now,” he pleaded. The truth was, Fitz wasn’t sure he could take hearing her say she didn’t feel the same way, not after the countless nights they’d spent together. He’d rather wrestle with the ambiguity the rest of his lift than actually hear Jemma say she didn’t love him. “Go back t’ your hotel an’ pack your bag. If... well, if you wan’ t’ go back t’ D’Oro, go. I’ll understand, really, I promise, bu’ if there’s a chance… If there’s a chance for us, then meet me a’ th’ flat. I’ll be there. All nigh’.”

Jemma eyed him for a moment, undoubtedly weighing the sincerity of his offer and leaving Fitz feeling more vulnerable than he ever had in his life. After an eternity she stepped forward, kissed his cheek, and fled the room without saying a word.

Fitz stood there for several long moments staring at the spot where she’d stood, shirt open, pants undone, and his heart resting in the bottom of his wingtips.

~*~

“She didn’t say  _ anything _ ?”

“No, she dinnae say anythin’, Daisy.” Fitz tried to keep the testiness out of his tone as he fumbled his bags into one arm and attempted to work the lock with his one free hand, all without dropping his mobile. It wasn’t Daisy’s fault that he’d made an absolute buffoon out of himself earlier and was sore about having to relate the experience. He’d have to live with the consequences, no matter how they hurt in the long run.

“That doesn’t sound like Jemma.”

“Oh, because you had such a close personal relationship wit’ her tha’ you would know, righ’?” The door gave way and Fitz crossed the threshold, cursing softly as he set down his burden and flexed feeling back into his fingers. “It doesnae matter wha’ she said. I told her I’d be here tonigh’, so I will be.”

There was a long pause on the line and Fitz could hear Daisy clacking away at a keyboard. “If you say so boss. I just pulled the email her boss sent her-”

“Did you jus’ hack her email?!”

“-and it looks like she’s out on the 9:45 flight back to New York. Do you want me to see if she’s checked in?”

Fitz hesitated, debating. As much as he didn’t approve of Daisy’s less than reputable use of her computer skills, he was sorely tempted to take advantage of them. A few quick keystrokes could give him his answer, and he could throw away the flowers and candles and wine, go home and drown himself in a bottle of something hard and expensive instead of waiting for a woman who would never come. The only thing really stopping him was how dishonest it felt; he’d asked Jemma to come to him and he wanted to give her the chance.

“No, thank you, Daisy, jus’ leave it alone. We’ll wait an’ see wha’ happens, yeah?”

“Yeah, all right. Good night, boss. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He took his time setting up the apartment: placing candles where he thought the looked good and lighting them, filling the vase he’d bought with the red tulips he’d bought her, chilling the pinot grigio, and plating the sushi he’d picked up from a place Jemma had mentioned wanting to try but their status made difficult to do together. Satisfied that everything was perfect, Fitz did the only thing he could.

He waited.

He tried to keep himself busy, skimming several online editions of financial papers and answering emails on his iPad instead of watching the clock. Still, try as he might, his eyes kept flickering to the top of the screen. He felt his heart sink a bit further with each passing minute, and when it quietly changed to 9:40 pm, Fitz tossed it onto the sofa next to him as the realization that she was on a plane heading away from him finally sank in.

Feeling foolish he stood from the armchair he’d been camped out in and began cleaning up. He was just beginning to blow out the guttering candles when he heard a key in the lock. A dark scowl came over Fitz’ face as he stalked into the kitchen so he wouldn’t have to face his assistant’s pitying expression once she came in.

“Daisy, I though’ I told you tha’ I’d be fine. I dinnae wan’-”

“Oh,” a soft, lilting voice exclaimed. “Were you expecting Daisy?”

“ _ Jemma _ ?” Fitz whirled around to face her, not daring to hope that his ears weren’t playing tricks on him. But Jemma was there, in the flesh, and he scooped her into his arms without thinking. “You’re here- really here-”

She clutched at him in return, her fingers eventually winding into his hair to direct his mouth to hers. “Of course I am,” she whispered between heated kisses. “You are easily the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Fitz, and-”

Whatever it was she’d been about to say, Jemma never got the chance. Too elated at hearing she loved him in return, Fitz cut her off with a kiss and began backing her out of the kitchen and in the general direction of the bedroom. They were all that mattered at the moment; anything else - their jobs, the opinions of their friends and coworkers, any consequence - could wait for the morning. 

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely Pocketfullof, who requested a secret relationship fic. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed working on it!


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